See the Sunset
by Cassie Jamie
Summary: Casey Novak's past is mired in secrets. Her life holds more lies than anyone would ever have thought and now she's faced with all of it being brought to daylight. Only the fallout won't be held in her hands, but in her family's.
1. Chapter 1

**Warnings:** Includes sensitive topics such as rape, incest, and school shootings. The latter is not discussed much further than one scene in the story.

* * *

"_Fate chooses our relatives;_

_We choose our friends._"

- Anon -

The phone had rung only a few times before it'd been picked up, but the caller hadn't dialed though that information wouldn't be know for a few hours yet. Instead, they were all treated to the noise of a woman, her voice impossibly old for someone they knew was barely an adult, as she pleaded and cried.

Standing over the receiver, hearts twisting, they all heard the words and were frozen in place. All training, all experience went out the window at the name that was peppered in the begging despite minds screaming to call emergency services.

"_Oh, god, oh, god. Casey, wake up! You can't be dead. Wake up! Come on, Case, you can't leave me. Casey... Please! You promised me – you promised! Don't leave me with him. Please, Casey! Wake up._" A bare moment of silence, then, "_God, he killed her. Casey..._"

"_I do not seek_.

_I find._"

- Pablo Picasso -

Munch had been the first to meet the girl, though he wouldn't realize who she was at first, and in a manner that made him want to scream at the sky, to rail against something in contrast to his normal demeanor. He'd never been prone to outbursts during his cases, but then his cases didn't normally collide with his personal life.

And finding Casey Novak's younger sister – an intelligent girl with hair more red than her sibling's had been and her eyes a brilliant blue – with bruises in impossible places was certainly a head-on collision.

She'd been brought to the emergency room by a friend for a sprained ankle that she swore was from tripping down the stairs, only for the staff to call the department when her x-rays came back showing multiple healed fractures. It hadn't helped matters that she became visibly upset when the doctors had started asking questions about her home life.

Being the nearest to NYU Downtown, dispatch called him and even though he was supposed to be headed back for lunch at the station, he went with the bit of information they could give him.

"Detective Munch from the 1-6," he told the admitting nurse, who only nodded and led him through the maze of beds, medical equipment, and trauma rooms to a curtained off area where the seventeen year old was.

Long legs hung over the side of the gurney, swinging back and forth while she bopped her head along to some song on her MP3 player. She was on the shorter side, however, and as she leaned back on her elbows, she looked all of twelve.

It took a moment for her to notice him, but once she had, her entire posture changed and the headphones were ripped from her ears. With them set on the bed, her legs were pulled up as she scooted back and wrapped her arms across bent knees.

Defensive posture.

He spared a moment to wonder if Olivia would have been a better choice for a teenage female, but he let it go quickly. Displaying his badge, a curious look came over her face which passed before Munch could truly identify it, telling him, "Eliska McDuff."

"I'm glad to meet you, Eliska," He greeted, pulling open his coat to retrieve his notepad. "Now, is it alright if we talk for a few minutes?"

She nodded in response, though her entire body remained taut with nervousness, "Sure, I don't have to be back for 036 until three."

"036?" Munch asked as he slid into a nearby chair. He was glad for the distance from the gurney, hoping the space between them would help the girl feel more confidence and perhaps engender a trust toward him.

"Short for E85-point-0036. It's a class, music theory. Well, music theory two at least."

"You're a musician or a dancer?" He asked, unsurprised given the girl's short but flouncy skirt and lean body that she was a student of the arts.

"Dancer," Eliska answered, adding, "I'm actually double majoring in Psychology and Music Theatre at NYU with a minor in Law and Society. I tend to spend more time on stage and hitting books than much else these days."

The smile she gave accompanied a clear easing of her shoulders, and Munch smiled gently before pressing on. "May I ask how your ankle got sprained?"

"Tripped on stage." The reply came with a shrug, her eyes casting away from him to the floor.

"And the bruises on your arms and legs?" His tone was soft, gentle; almost unassuming although now that he had seen the marring of her skin himself as she moved, there was no doubt in the man's mind. This was a teenager – a child, legally – who was weary of males and was likely to push the lie as far as she could because it was what she'd been taught to do.

"I'm a clumsy dancer," she told him, but her voice was flat and somewhat despondent.

"Clumsy? Eliska, those bruises on your forearms look a lot like fingers," John commented, ignoring the fact that the hospital had noted several bite marks hidden just below the collar of her shirt. "Is there someone hurting you?"

"No! No. I am not molested or abused. It's not like that." There was steel in her voice as she spoke, "She wouldn't let him touch me."

"Who's she?"

She hesitated, "No one. Can I go?"

And as if on cue, the curtain was pulled back so John Munch could come face to face with Casey Novak, black eye and all.

Without a word from either the detective or the former prosecutor, Casey turned to the girl, telling her, "Elle, go sit in the waiting room. I'll be out in a second."

"Marochka," she started, but the woman only shook her head and waited for Eliska to disappear around the bend of the nurses' desk before turning her attention to Munch. "They really shouldn't have called you."

"Judging by the black eye and the way you're carrying yourself, I think they were right to call. What's going on, Casey?" He asked, standing and moving closer to his friend, an experienced eye searching for that which would indicate further injuries.

It did not help his fears when she flinched away when he neared.

"It's really nothing, John, trust me. I wouldn't let anyone hurt my sister," she replied. A murmur added, "You look good. Tell everyone I said hello."

"Casey..." He tried, hoping she wouldn't run from him – from a friend – but not knowing for sure; it'd been months since anyone had seen the woman and no one at the precinct would be able to say anything about her life with certainty. Casey Novak had become a past tense and in the moment that she started to walk away, he hated that.

She never so much as cast a look back at him as she disappeared into the busy ER.

"_Acceptance is not submission;_

_it is acknowledgment of the facts of a situation._

_Then deciding what to do about it._"

- Kathleen Casey -

It was barely twenty four hours later that Olivia had her own personal collision of work versus life.

Her latest case closed and another thirty-six hour marathon shift under her belt, she'd been headed out of the station with her metro card in hand when she remembered a distinct lack of food in her apartment. She was so conditioned to the long hours that she rarely kept anything that would go bad in a relatively short time, but with a string of cases and getting called in twice for emergencies, there was maybe half a jar of mayo and some canned beans to be had.

Making a quick mental list, she slipped into the subway and tossed around her morning case in her mind, glad it had been easily enough proved the boy had been abused. One more criminal put away, one more child who would spend the night better off than the night before.

Twilight had begun to set in as Olivia entered the store, snatching up a basket as she passed through the front doors, and she settled on getting whatever she'd need for the night and the next morning. She promised herself she'd do a more extensive shopping trip later in the week; as much of a New York apartment dweller as she was, she did try to avoid eating out for all her meals.

She'd just rounded an end cap full of diet aids when she bumped into the worker and as she faced the girl to apologize, her heart skipped a beat. "Casey?"

"Damn," Casey murmured, before giving her friend a quick smile and saying, "Olivia."

The rational part of Benson kicked at her, telling her she should say hello, ask how the woman was – ask why she was working in a grocery store, of all places – but the trained detective part of her was sending an assessing eye over every inch. Taking in the black-eye that she'd tried to hide under concealer, taking in the bruises that weren't hidden terribly well under a long-sleeved shirt, and taking in the very stature of someone she'd once considered far more confident than herself.

"Are you alright?"

A sigh, then, "I'm fine. How is everyone?"

Deflection, a change of subject – common behavior in someone conditioned to keeping secrets. Yet, Olivia was willing to play along with it for the moment, hoping to find an opening in the ensuing conversation to ask a pointed question.

Only it seemed that Casey was quite good at deferring attentions, twisting and turning words without giving away anything. Even in her suspension, she clearly couldn't let go of her training, still speaking and acting like a lawyer.

"Casey!" Someone called from the front and the two women turned to the man walking down the aisle. His tag read Manager beneath his name; he was clearly unamused by her ceasing to work while talking and Olivia was just about to reach into her coat for her badge when Casey shook her head.

She stood by as the man ripped into her for entertaining friends on company time. "The guy yesterday I let slide because you said he was your old man, but you do it again and you'll be looking for another job, ya' got me?"

"Yes, sir," Casey answered, her voice lackluster and subservient. She returned to her work as he moved away, almost ignoring Benson altogether while she got to her knees with a wince and reached for the goods on the floor. "Please. Leave it alone."

"I don't think I can." She watched as the woman moved, waiting for the sleeves of her shirt to pull back and she bent down to be eye-level with her friend. "Your wrists are bruised, Casey. I can see one around your eye. Talk to me."

Novak shook her head. "If you knew what you were asking, you won't be asking it. Please let it go, because you wouldn't want to hear it anyway." As the last word came from her mouth, her body language hardened and it was clear she was done with the topic.

But Olivia would not be so easily dissuaded. "If you're saying it, I will want to hear it. And if you don't want to tell me because you think someone's going to look down on you for it..."

Casey snapped. "Leave. It. Alone. Do you understand me? It's not me I'm worried about and no, it's not him either. There's something more important." She got to her feet there, schooling her features down to blandness and then Casey was walking off, through a stockroom door.

Benson nearly followed, stopping short at the door and sighing. Casey had put a physical barrier between them, an indicator of how unwilling she was to talk and, in effect, telling Olivia that any more would push the boundary of their friendship.

For a moment, she contemplated not listening to instinct until reason kicked in. If Casey truly was involved in a relationship that was abusive, she had to be treated like any other victim and badgering wouldn't help the situation.

"_True friendship isn't about_

_being there when it's convenient;_

_it's about being there when it's not_."

- Anon -

Neither Munch nor Benson shared their discovery with the rest of the squad, nor with each other. Both regarded it as their personal secret, something they carried while they decided how best to tackle the issue and they told no one out of respect for their friend.

Olivia had been making the effort of passing by Casey's apartment building, trying to catch the woman going in or out but she only ever saw the other tenants. She hoped that if she caught up with Casey, talked a bit, she would confide what was going on. Hell, the irrational side of her almost wished the abuser would show up and try something where she could see.

And when she was alone, away from Elliot and the others, she thought through the things they'd shared with each other through the five years Casey had worked at SVU. A schizophrenic fiancé, a drunk mother, views on abortion and so many others, and never had Olivia suspected. Granted Novak had tried to get out of being the ADA for the unit, but then few people were ever comfortable dealing with that league of cases right off the bat.

Yet the reactions, the way she seemed to radiate defeat, plus the long-sleeved shirt and the jeans in a store that had been hot even in late August's early evening... She sighed against the raging thoughts.

For his part, John was more focused on young Eliska, whom he worried was on the verge of becoming a statistic. Young, beautiful, clearly above average intelligence given her course load – she would be easy prey for someone since she also lacked a fair amount of confidence. Any abuser would latch onto that and run with it.

He'd seen her once in Central Park a week after the ER visit, the matter dropped as Casey herself had emailed him Eliska's medical file revealing a propensity for injuries due to an active lifestyle. She'd been playing a small game of soccer with people who appeared to be her age when he looked up from a cordoned off section of the park; he'd watched her fall or catch herself on friends several times, confirming that she was indeed a bit unsteady on her feet.

Though it did not ease his mind in the slightest: a neurological injury could cause Vestibular Ataxia. Of course, Eliska could have Vertigo or a balance disorder, or she really was simply a klutz. But a dancer with a lack of stability didn't sit well with Munch and it continued to bother him.

It was still heavy on their thoughts as it neared mid-November. They'd barely had time to sit down for five minutes during the heat of the last weeks of summer and most of fall, so when SVU was called to NYU, even Cragen wondered if there was something in the water.

"Hey, someone called for SV?" Olivia asked the minute she'd gotten out of the car.

The ground floor of the dormitory had been closed off to foot traffic to allow emergency services access to victims and multiple units had been called to deal with the students arriving back from classes who hadn't known what was going on.

"Yeah. Victim's upstairs, floor eighteen," the uniform relayed, adding, "Hope you've got strong stomachs."

"Wonder what that was about," Elliot remarked, slipping into the lobby. More uniforms littered the area; one of them beckoned the detectives over to the elevator and hit the button for the floor. They passed most of the ride in silence until they hit floor thirteen.

"There's blood everywhere," the guy told them. "Kid snapped. Killed a buncha his classmates, then himself."

Olivia recovered from the small shock first and thanked the officer as the doors slid open to reveal a massacre that hadn't even hit the police gossip line. Cragen had told them both what he'd been told: a student claiming she'd been raped by a classmate. Nothing about an attack within the school; she made a mental note to make sure that crisis protocol had been initiated, especially for the sake of the witnesses.

They were directed almost immediately by CSU to the student, Mena Hudson, who was nearly hysterical in the corner of her own dorm room. The girl had blocked herself in beside her desk and the wall with her storage trunk at her feet, making it nearly impossible for anyone to grab her without injury.

It was a lesson in futility. Mena was in shock from the day's events, and in the end, Olivia was unable to get her to calm down enough to talk to her. Paramedics managed to tranquilize her with some effort and as they wheeled her out of the room toward the elevator beside the one they'd arrived in. She was quickly loaded in, Olivia telling them she'd meet them downstairs so they wouldn't be cramped in the small space.

The elevator dinged and the doors opened to reveal Munch with a redheaded girl, who looked nervous and worried.

"Eliska McDuff, Detectives Benson and Stabler," John introduced.

"Where's Mena?" She asked without allowing either of them to reply. "She's probably flashing back. She won't stop freaking out until she's got her reality trigger."

Elliot picked up on the strange term. "Reality trigger?"

A momentary pause before she sighed and offered up, "She was abused when she was a kid. When she hears a car backfire or a door slam or a gun shot, she flashes back to the memories, but if you put a piece of ice or something cold like that it brings her out of the memory."

"You're sure?"

"I've done it!" She answered, as she walked over to a nook in the corner of the atrium. A small kitchenette had been set up, and she popped open the refrigerator to snatch a reusable freezer pack. Eliska tossed it to Olivia who slipped into the elevator Munch had been holding and the now-foursome rode down.

"Eliska, how do you know Mena?"

She glanced up at Olivia and said, "She's a freshman so she was assigned housing with no choice. She heard about my floor, about how we are and asked if she could move there next sem when some of the seniors leave. She's in one of my majors, too, so I've been helping her with concepts."

"So you know who she'd have contact with?"

"Mena's new and she's a Baggage kid. We're not exactly the most well-liked on campus."

The ding of their arrival at the lobby interrupted the conversation and taking the ice pack, Eliska shimmied through the crowd to the ambulance. Attempts to keep her away from Mena were overcome, the girl shoving the pack into a slack hand and murmuring, "It's alright, hunny. You're alright. They can't hurt you anymore, remember?"

Olivia tried, and failed, to contain her surprise when Mena's eyes focused and she spoke, "Eliska?"

"_Secrets are made to be_

_found out in time."_

- Charles Sandford -


	2. Chapter 2

"_Secrets are made to be_

_found out in time."_

- Charles Sandford -

"She was right," George started, glancing at Eliska through the glass of the Captain's door. "Victims who develop PTSD sometimes need a trigger – verbal or physical – that will bring them out of a flashback."

"So she's not able to... what? Understand what's reality and what isn't?" Elliot asked from his position against to Huang's left.

"Not when she's in a flashback. To her, that memory is reality and that's what she's reacting to. And judging by the fact that Eliska knew what to do, this is not the first time Mena has had a flashback since the school year began."

"The semester only started eleven weeks ago," Olivia remarked. "That's pretty quick for a child abuse vic to get to know another kid enough to trust them with something like this. And what was it Eliska said – something about baggage?"

"Baggage?" George's brow furrowed gently, as if recognizing it. "Well, if Eliska's a member of the Baggage floors at NYU, then that would explain why her relationship with Mena came on as it did. Those particular two floors house students who have emotional issues from traumatic pasts. They're very close knit to the point that the school has actually tried to intervene."

"There's an entire floors of teenage victims? Was NYU conducting a case study?" Munch remarked sarcastically, though it lacked some of its usual snark.

Huang started, "Three students started there during the Fall of 2000 who were each abused by parents. By the start of the next school year, the floor had three more students sign on to live there. According to the administration, it was only after the initial three students graduated that they realized that the entire floor had been taken over by that specific part of the student body and had, in fact, started to overflow to the one below. Ever since, the penthouse floor and the one below of Alumni Hall is known as the Baggage floors and are home to about sixty-six young adults who were abused, neglected, molested or in some way 'damaged' as they call it."

"Actually, we prefer unique. As in we're uniquely eccentric, but most people get damaged better," Eliska interrupted. She'd quietly pushed the office door open and was casually leaning against the frame, looking for all the world like she belonged there. She smiled gently, saying, "The vast majority of campus is scared of us, really, but that's only because they don't understand. It's why we congregate on Baggage – everyone understands, everyone knows there are boundaries. We don't fear each other. NYU wants us to live in the other dorms and get to know other people, but how do you befriend someone who was from an affectionate family if yours was more fond of slapping each other around?"

"Yet how do you expect to react to situations in your working life if you're not used to common reactions?" George responded, his voice soft as ever though professional and calm.

"Did I say we only interact with each other? No, we're okay with other people. More of my friends are from outside my floor than on. It's the sanctity of knowing at the end of the day, when I get back to my room, no one yells and no one touches me unless asked. I don't expect to hear someone ask me questions I don't want to answer or be told that my life has been better than another."

They all stood still for a moment, trying to understand and Eliska broke the sudden silence. "My sister doesn't know I'm here and as far as I know, she's got to sign some papers for me since I'm technically a minor. Is it alright if I use a phone? Let her know she has to come down here to get me?"

"Of course," Cragen answered and gestured toward Olivia, "Detective Benson can help you with that. Please let your sister know that you're not in any trouble, so there's no need to rush, okay?"

A soft smile was offered as Eliska turned to follow the woman from the office; she stopped before she walked away, telling them, "Thank you." She was gone a moment later, obscured somewhat by the door Munch slid closed behind her.

"Am I the only one confused as to why that girl lives on a Baggage floor?" Fin tossed out. Eliska was a happy, vibrant girl who hadn't flinched for a second around any of them, male or female. She seemed comfortable to ask questions, didn't get upset by Huang's probing, and had a genuine trust with Munch.

George crossed his arms and contemplated it, replying, "It's possible she's detached herself from any abuse. If she's been told repeatedly to not tell or let anyone find out, Eliska may have created an effective face to show the world. Or it could be that the abuse is in her past." He paused, thinking over all he knew of Eliska's friends; his friend at NYU had come to him several times with concerns and for advice. Of anyone outside the school, he had the best insight.

"Most likely, Eliska's sister removed her from the situation and has had some form of treatment," he added after a moment, unaware how very far he was from the truth.

"_Some people confuse acceptance with apathy,_

_but there's all the difference in the world._"

- Arthur Gordon -

A half an hour after she placed the call, the phone on Olivia's desk rang twice before she snatched it up. "Benson," she said, waiting while the receptionist relayed a message before speaking again, "She has to come up. I can't release Eliska until I verify the guardianship." Another moment of conversation; she thanked the person at the other end and turned to the teen. "Your sister is on her way."

Eliska winced. "Not good."

"Not good?" Elliot's brow furrowed a bit, his eyes focusing on the young woman.

Her mouth had opened to explain when the door to the unit popped open and Casey Novak, in her grocery store uniform and backpack slung over one shoulder, appeared. She looked worse for wear with her hair clean but not as neatly set as usual and her clothing gently rumpled. Her head was down, her shoulders hunched, and her entire form casting off a feeling of unease.

Then she looked up and every one of her former coworkers choked on their words. One eye was a deep purple – a fresh bruise – and her work shirt only half-covered the yellow-green discoloration around her neck.

"Casey," George began, a little more shock in his voice than he wanted and regretting not being able to stop it. He'd never admit it aloud, but he had figured one day to hear that Olivia was in an unhealthy relationship, not the former ADA. It was like a punch to the gut to see how little of the brave woman they'd known was in the person in front of them.

"Look, I'm only here for my sister," she told them and fished her ID out of her back pocket, holding it out to Cragen who had come out of his office to greet Eliska's caregiver. "Check it so we can go," she told him in a murmur.

Taking the ID, the Captain quickly tried to come up with a reason for Casey to remain. "It'll take a little while to compare your ID to the custody file."

"Will it," she said, less a question and more a statement. Of course Novak would know it was a lie; she knew both procedure and the time it took for custody inquiries. A computer search of the documentation would take all of five minutes and anyway, it wasn't needed. Whether or not Eliska had given her name as Novak or McDuff, comparing Eliska's state-issued ID to Casey's would show both their last name and address matched.

Cragen ignored the dry words. "Why don't you sit down for a few minutes? Elliot can get you and Eliska something to drink."

"I have the best in precinct coffee to offer," Stabler joked to Eliska who grinned in response and turned to face Casey.

"We can stay for a few minutes, right?" Soft eyes regarded her, clearly not demanding but still hopeful. It caused the elder Novak to sigh, then relent; she slid into a nearby chair while she dropped the bag at her feet. There was a definite flash of pain on Casey's face when her back hit the wood; she adjusted herself as inconspicuously as possible and Cragen made his way into his office.

An awkwardness settled over the group, each wondering how to overcome the elephant in the room. Olivia felt her heart twist in her chest, having waited for this moment for weeks and suddenly unable to ask what she wanted. It was so easy to ask the hard questions to victims, to suspects, yet to ask those of Casey was infinitely harder than she had anticipated.

Elliot, luckily, returned with mugs in hand for their guests, saying, "Two sugars, splash of milk," as he handed one to Casey. "And, tea with two sugars and a splash of milk for Eliska."

"Thank you. Eliska?"

The girl had started sipping, forgetting the manners Casey had fought hard to instill in her sister. "Oh, sorry. Thanks! Didn't realize how thirsty I was until it was in my hands!" she laughed and took another long drink, hoping someone would break the silence that fell between them before she did it herself.

Sitting back in his chair, Don looked at the phone he'd only just hung up. It took only a few minutes to confirm Casey's status as Eliska's guardian – it also confirmed that she had legally adopted her sister at age fourteen and that the original custody agreement had been made in the Czech Republic.

He knew he shouldn't have pried, knew there had to be a valid reason for a foreign government having had jurisdiction over the two, but while the first made him uncomfortable, the second made him curious. Something was not right.

Cragen stood up, walked to the door, and called, "Casey. Can I speak to you for a minute? Alone?"

She _flinched_. Never had he seen her unsettled by someone and it made his blood boil that much more, wanting to throttle someone and he didn't know who. Still, she got to her feet and walked gently into his office, only his eyes catching the way she was trying to walk normally yet in pain all the same.

The door remained open a bare quarter of an inch. It was an subtle offering to her of escape should she need it and a way to keep her from feeling completely fenced in or threatened.

"You look like hell, Casey," he told her without preamble.

In the old days, she might have responded with some thinly veiled comment about working long hours in the service of the unit or some dry comment about brightening a girl's day. This time, she simply shrugged and said, "I'm working as hard as I can to keep her in school and food in the apartment. The beauty routine is the first to go."

He stopped himself from snorting in derision, moving closer and pushed a little harder verbally. "Olivia and Munch have both come to me since Eliska called you," he admitted, "Olivia said you had a black eye then too."

"I've been having problems with tripping. Caught myself on a door and a table."

The immediate response '_And you stopped your fall with your face?_' popped to mind, only to be snuffed out quickly. "Munch said Eliska's ER visit worried the doctors. That she got upset and withdrew when he asked if she was abused."

"Because she's not. She gets upset when people ask those kinds of questions!" Casey was getting agitated, her arms crossing in front of her and her posture showing caution. She was closing herself off in the expectation of being called upon to explain her injuries.

"Casey."

"It's nothing. I have to go." And she reached out for the door as she approached it, wrapping her fingers around the heavy wood, coming to a stop and resting her head on the frame. "I have more at stake than you realize and I'm begging you – and Munch and Benson – to let it go." She turned back to look at him, whispering, "Let me go."

"I can't."

She nodded sadly before pulling the door open, and as she fought an internal battle to not cry, Eliska handed her the backpack. Casey wrapped an arm across her sister's back, leaving the bullpen together without looking back. Red head pressed to redhead, they faded from view around a corner.

"Anyone in here not feeling like crap right now?" Fin asked, blunt as always. He would later recall the moments after Casey's departure as the calm before the storm, the time before they would realize how much a life could change in so little time.

"_Fate chooses our relatives;_

_We choose our friends._"

- Anon -

The phone had rung only a few times before it'd been picked up, but the caller hadn't dialed though that information wouldn't be know for a few hours yet. Instead, they were all treated to the noise of a woman, her voice impossibly old for someone they knew was barely an adult, as she pleaded and cried.

Standing over the receiver, hearts twisting, they all heard the words and were frozen in place. All training, all experience went out the window at the name that was peppered in the begging despite minds screaming to call emergency services.

"_Oh, god, oh, god. Casey, wake up! You can't be dead. Wake up! Come on, Case, you can't leave me. Casey... Please! You promised me – you promised! Don't leave me with him. Please, Casey! Wake up._" A bare moment of silence, then, "_God, he killed her. Casey..._"

"_To help all created things,_

_that is the measure of all our responsibility;_

_to be helped by all, that is the measure of our hope._"

- Gerald Vann -

The black and whites arrived a few seconds prior to SVU, the unmarked blue sedans screeching to a halt behind the ambulance and all five occupants emptying from the vehicles without closing the doors. None of them listened to any of the yells shouted at their backs, though Cragen did stop at the entrance way to speak with the first-response officer.

Olivia hit the stairs a step ahead of the others, bounding up two at a a time until she reached the fifth floor and slammed open the door. There were a dozen choices to take, but Olivia knew number 57 without even needing to look and she came to a halt in front of it. Unholstering her gun with one hand and knocking with the other, Elliot called, "Police!"

Silence.

Stabler knocked himself, yelling, "Eliska! Honey, open the door!" He paused, and waited a moment, but still there was nothing to denote a person walking or the lock turning. With a nod from the others, Elliot and Fin moved into position and together threw their combined weight at the door. It creaked from the effort and it took another two tries before the wood flew back on its hinges, revealing a wrecked living room beyond the small foyer.

The complete disarray of the room – couch and coffee table thrown askew against the far wall and books, magazines, and small electronics flung anywhere and everywhere – was like a tangible halo around the two women. Bleeding on the floor, Casey was pale and unconscious while her sister knelt over her, pleading in murmurs. Beside her left foot was a cellphone with a broken screen, her toes pressed against the keys.

With John and Olivia moving to check on Eliska and Casey, Tutuola and Stabler went room to room, putting away their weapons after declaring the apartment clear.

"How is she?" Elliot asked when they returned to their partners' sides, seeing that Eliska was wrapped in Munch's long trench yet rooted to the same spot she'd been.

"She's got a pulse and she's breathing," Benson replied. She didn't need to say aloud that time was quickly running out for the former ADA. She was barely getting air in and out of her lungs, her pulse thready and nearly undetectable.

The paramedics appeared with Cragen, immediately zeroing in on their patient and shoving the detectives from their places. Eliska, however, wouldn't budge, even as the medics told her she was hindering her sister's care.

"Eliska, come on," Munch said as mildly as he could, in contrast to his forcibly lifting her from the floor. They were a mere two feet away when she seemed to snap out of it, kicking and going limp while she reached out with one hand for Casey.

He struggled with her for a moment, unable to get her to settle until he turned to let her see Casey. Slowly and carefully, he wrapped her in his arms, letting her watch as she gradually grew less tense. It was minutes between the paramedics arriving and their rushing out with the woman, but it was enough time for Eliska to comprehend what was going on.

With Casey on the way down to the bus, one of the men turned to Eliska and asked, "Can I look you over, hon?" He was gruff looking, older, with a clean uniform and John knew the man's reputation, his appearance having little to do with his manner. But she recoiled instantaneously into Munch's embrace, closing her eyes and burrowing her face into his arm.

"Yo, Thomas! We gotta go!" came through the radio and he looked to the detective, "she should come to the hospital."

"Cap..."

"Ride with Eliska," the elder answered without needing to hear the question. "We'll meet you there once CSU starts processing." He watched them leave and looked to his subordinates, saying, "Start canvassing. I want to know if anyone heard so much as a creak in the floorboards from this place. Once CSU gets in here, Olivia, you're with them."

All nodded; none questioned it. SVU had control of the case and they knew that if anyone tried to take it, there would be hell to pay: Casey deserved the best, the four people there in the apartment exactly that. Don would be hardpressed to find anyone better.

He remained in the living room as they left, looking down at the blood stain on the carpet. It was thick and cloying the air, coppery in his mouth when he breathed in. It struck him suddenly that they so easily could have walked in to find Novak dead on the floor.

They hadn't spoken since the suspension had been handed down, at least until that day, and he briefly gave mind to the last time they'd seen each other. There'd been no words, just a sad look as Casey had carried the last box out of the One-Six after saying her goodbyes to the others. She hadn't even come up to him, probably fearing outright rejection.

"Did it start then?" he muttered to himself, the investigator coming out while he looked over the mess. He noticed the lack of photos on the walls, the spartan furnishings, the way the shoes along the foyer wall were so well-worn they were falling apart. These little things would mean nothing to others, but to him they spoke volumes.

Casey had always been meticulous in her clothing choices, her hairstyle. The bathroom was devoid of any products, only a few OTC drugs in the cabinet with a toothbrush and toothpaste. A paddle brush sat on the sink edge. In the bedroom, her clothes were strewn on the floor or hung haphazardly in the closet. The dresser drawers were pulled forward and the bed linens were in piles at the foot of the mattress.

Both fists clenched at the sight of the stained sheets.

So wrapped up in what the stains likely meant, he never heard Elliot approach. The younger man watched his mentor for a moment, taking in the sight that was Donald Cragen analyzing a scene.

Swallowing, he broke into the other's thoughts, reporting, "No one heard a sound tonight, Cap, but half a dozen people have said they thought there was something up between Casey and some guy." He hesitated then, not sure if it were worth it to mention, ultimately deciding to tell Cragen. "There may have been more people involved. Apparently, the guy's been heard yelling multiple names including Casey, Eliska, Marochka, and Alexander. They're not sure who the last two could be since no one on the floor has seen anyone besides the girls and the mystery guy."

"All right. Let's check with the landlord, see what names are on the lease agreement."

"Fin's already on it."

A nod was Elliot's answer, before walking a few steps away. There he stopped, looked back, and swore, "We'll get this guy."

"_Sometimes you put up walls; not to keep people out,_

_but to see who cares enough to break them down._"

- Anon -


	3. Chapter 3

"_Sometimes you put up walls; not to keep people out,_

_but to see who cares enough to break them down._"

- Anon -

Munch had stayed close to Eliska Novak through everything, not fighting her when she refused the rape kit and helping her battle the nurses for news on Casey. The girl was still in shock, that much was obvious, but her mind had cleared faster than her body, able to explain and defend actions without reluctance or frustration. She was still trembling, though, and the doctors warned her blood pressure was far too high for a person her age.

They were out of earshot when she grumbled, "Can't imagine why my blood pressure would be through the fucking roof," followed by a yawn.

It was the first instance of anger and vulgarity he'd heard from her; it was almost refreshing to see something beside the happy mask she wore, a display that she wasn't as far gone as some of the victims he'd known. Her emotions weren't tamped down, buried – they were only hidden for the preservation of her sanity.

She adjusted the thin blanket she'd been given, yanking it up over her chest as she moved. John watched as she arranged it so even as she sat up with knees drawn almost to her neck, the blanket and sheet covered all but her head.

"Interesting set up."

Eliska shrugged, pulling a hand from the linens to scratch her scalp. "When I was little, Casey would be up late, doing homework. It was just us and we were pretty poor, so we'd wait as long as possible to put on the heat. When it got cold in autumn, she'd wrap me up." She smiled sadly then, adding, "She used to call me an Eli-burrito."

He sighed. "Eliska, can you tell me what happened tonight?"

Blue eyes lifted to meet his, more gray than the first time he'd seen them. They were quickly hidden beneath her eyelids and she dropped her head to her knees, the previously articulate and outspoken nature he'd observed earlier fading away.

"I can't." She lifted her head, revealing, "I can't without telling everything and I promised my sister. She has to say it's all right. But you can find out without me, right? I don't have to say anything?" She looked so pitifully hopeful – this unknown promise meant the world to the kid.

"We can, but it would help if you told me something," he pushed.

The blanket was pushed forward to puddle around her feet and she rubbed her eyes with both hands, the heels digging into soft flesh. She was holding back tears, Munch knew, and he stood from his seat, rubbing her back with a hand as he told it was okay to cry. Eliska only snorted, shaking her head, yet still shifted closer to him.

"Prci..." she muttered after he pulled away. "Prci."

He lifted an eyebrow, unable to place the word in any language he knew, but she only shook her head and returned to being tight-lipped. She would not be sharing anything with them until she had a reason to not betray her sister, though what information would yield answers, he could only begin to guess.

A knock on the door stole both of their attentions and Olivia smiled warmly at Eliska. "Hey, how are you feeling?"

Before the young woman could answer, Munch interrupted, telling them both, "I've got something I need to check on. I'll be back in a little while." He waited until Benson agreed to stay with the Eliska to leave, taking the other detective's keys and hurrying to the vehicle.

If Eliska needed a reason to speak, he'd find one.

"_No one keeps a secret so well as a child._"

- Victor Hugo -

Prci, as it turned out, was Czech for fucking. How she intoned it, John assumed she had stopped before saying another word or a name.

But it was enough to trigger an interest and for the next few hours, John Munch learned several things: Eliska was a common name in the Czech Republic and there were no records of the two Novaks in the United States until 1997. It was there that Cragen, Tutuola, and Stabler returned to the precinct and it was revealed that the guardianship held by Casey for Eliska had been granted by the Czech state government.

Further research was left for the others when Olivia called to say that Eliska was asking for him and Casey had come through surgery, though it was still touch and go. "_They're saying previous damage to organs may cause them to shut down if her body gets overstressed._"

It was decided that he alone would return to the hospital to relieve Benson so she could clean up. He promised to keep them apprised of Casey's situation as well as anything Eliska said that could be of help, but aside from that he was told by the Captain to "just look after the girl. She's gotten attached to you and you're our best bet for getting a name for the attacker."

The hospital, persuaded by Olivia and the staff social worker, had placed Eliska on the same floor of the hospital as her sister. The ICU shared space with the internal medicine department, making it easy enough to keep the two near to the other. She was only spending the night for observation, anyway, and Eliska told him as much.

Chatting amicably for a few minutes, Munch found an opening to bring up the oddities he'd found in his research. Only he knew he couldn't come straight out and say that the unit was talking with the DA's office to pull any back records they had on the Novaks.

"Eliska, where did you learn Czech?"

She looked at him curiously. "What do you mean?"

"The word you said yesterday – prci – which I'm sure your sister will be less than pleased to hear you've been saying, is czech. Do you speak any more of it?" He asked, hoping she wouldn't close up right then.

"Yes." She looked at him curiously. "Why?"

"Does your sister speak Czech?"

"I'm not saying until you tell me why it matters what languages we know," she declared, anxious and upset. She'd been drilled through her younger years to keep certain information quiet out of paranoia that the wrong word could bring hell down upon them in the form of a human being. Her occasional use of Czech here and there had never been a problem before – everyone knew one or two words in another language – but it seemed Munch had a reason for asking.

She had to know what that reason was first, though it would have to wait – Jack McCoy was standing in the doorway. His eyes were trained on her, evidently ignoring the detective's presence.

"Eliska Mae Novak, Smartass," he greeted.

"John James McCoy, Pompous Jerk," she answered in kind.

"_The beginning of knowledge is_

_the discovery of something we_

_do not understand_."

- Frank Herbert -

As it turned out, of those at the District Attorney's office, only one had kept tabs on Casey. McCoy had been aware of every step she had taken since departing, though he could give them little insight as to who had raised their hand to the woman.

However, he did have explanations for many of the issues that had confounded them – and he spoke under extreme reluctance, leaving out more than he gave them. It aggravated the team, all of them sitting at desks and looking between each other whenever he glossed over something or avoided answering a question. Deflecting and redirecting like a consummate lawyer.

Olivia's handwriting decimated the marker board with each word, despite that, adding in bits and pieces of a complex puzzle. A former last name – McDuff, quite definitely Irish – and birth dates were added beneath pictures of Casey and Eliska.

"What about parents?"

Fin was standing beside Elliot, who was sitting at his desk while he listened. The two had come to an uneasy peace in the weeks after Lake. Oh, they weren't friends, not by a long shot, but they were both far too stubborn to give in. So they forced themselves to work together for the sake of the victims. At that moment, Casey was their victim given the evidence and they'd be damned if they wasted time screwing with each other when she was in critical condition.

"The mother died fifteen years ago. She never said how and I've got nothing on the father. The most she ever said about him was that he was in..."

"Vietnam," Olivia cut him off. Her eyes widened a little as a thought came to mind, and she said, "There's a database we can search."

"There's probably a dozen McDuffs who served."

"It'll still narrow down the field, Cap," Elliot pointed out.

"If McDuff is _his_ name. Search 'em both. And someone find out why we keep hitting brick walls – if they weren't in the country before '97, I want to know where they were." He added, "And you two, have something on the Sandbergh case before the end of the day."

Orders issued, Tutuola and Munch diverted to do some legwork on the other ongoing case, Cragen moved to his office while Elliot took off for TARU. Olivia was set to follow when Jack grabbed her arm and spun her back to look at him.

"Talk to Mary Clark."

He said nothing more, walking off without so much as a goodbye and Benson watched his back until he'd passed through the door. She made a quick mental note to hunt down Casey's mentor, although she figured that Casey had been just as sparing with her personal background to her as she'd been with everyone else.

She headed through the corridors, slipping through the usual crowd of people in the halls and saying hello to a detective or two. TARU wasn't overly far from SVU, but Elliot still appeared to have been there for ages the way he was scooted close to the computer beside Ruben Morales and his jacket dispensed with.

"Anything?" Olivia asked, aware that it was too soon but needing something to break the silence.

"Only a cursory search in the major databases. It's turned up a couple of sites where Casey's name is mentioned for her association with the City of New York and the softball games," Morales replied. "I'm working on this," he pointed at the screen, "now." The computer had apparently been hooked up to Casey's laptop, removed from the apartment by CSU the night before, and was running a decoding program.

He looked up from his chair, telling Olivia, "She's got multiple files and emails password protected and encoded. That's not including the ones in Czech that I sent to the translators."

"Czech again," she muttered. What in the hell did a country halfway 'round the world have to do with Casey Novak? She'd talked about her father in Vietnam, she talked with an American accent, and she'd never had problems flying, driving, or understanding custom.

"Of course." Ruben's expression turned to one of curiosity. "You don't know?"

"Know what?"

"That Casey's half Czech. It's where she was born."

Both detectives stared at him, trying to figure out which question to ask first as their minds tumbled over a multitude of hows, whys, and what-fors. How was it a technician in a department she rarely, if ever, had contact with knew where she'd been born when those who had spent time with her didn't? Why hadn't she trusted them with that knowledge?

Why hadn't she trusted them?

"She told you that?" Benson eventually inquired, the whirr of the electronics around her slowing her mind down enough to weed out the notions flying through.

"No, her sister."

"Her sister randomly found you and told you that Casey was born in another country?" Elliot, regardless of the fact that Ruben was a member of the force, was suspicious of the man. Munch had spent more time with Eliska than anyone else, had gained her trust despite the tenuousness of the bond, and she hadn't given him anything besides a word.

"She got lost here one day. Casey said she'd meet her on one of the floors after she left SVU, the kid ended up lost and I stayed with her until Casey showed up." He shrugged. "We talked for a while. She mentioned that she and Casey had been wanting to take a vacation home but they had to wait until summer."

"And you asked where home was," Elliot stated.

Ruben nodded with a shrug – it was certainly more involved than that – as the computer made a noise and they were all looking at Czech words. "Well something else for the translators..." He trailed off when another computer emitted a pinging noise, entirely too annoying to have been a default sound. Morales shifted his focus to it, and with a grimace, spoke again. "Seems the Czech government has their file flagged – no access without permission."

"The hell. Why would they do that?"

"Not my job to find out," Ruben answered. "But I'm betting Eliska would know."

"_I'm afraid to show you who I really am,_

_because if I show you who I really am,_

_you might not like it - and it's all I've got_."

- Sabrina Ward Harrison -

"No."

"Eliska, honey, I know..."

"You really don't."

Olivia sighed. With Munch out on still another case, she had been asked to look after Eliska while ACS determined what to do with her and she was refusing to go anywhere besides the station and the hospital. The stubbornness and attitude that Casey had displayed through the years was clearly a family trait.

She had lobbied to be returned to the dorm following her release to the hospital given the fact that the Novak apartment hadn't been released by CSU yet, but her age and status meant she had to have a capable guardian until Casey woke from her coma. Something Eliska had a hard time accepting, calling her sister unconscious instead.

With a mental groan, Olivia sat back in the chair and regarded the girl on the couch. She'd preferred the noise of the squad room to the solitude of the crib, taking half hour naps there and eating whatever vegetarian offerings they could drudge up. She sipped at the chamomile tea that Elliot had snatched from his house in the early morning, textbooks on Freud, Jung, and Maslow in her lap and a packet on classical dance peered out from a canvas rucksack.

"Eliska, have you told your professors what's going on?" Olivia asked, switching tactics. It'd been three days and they were still coming up dry. The only new connections they'd made were an 8 ½ by 11 page of Vietnam veterans with the last name McDuff which only half could be tracked, a handful of emails to a friend in London asking about work and mentioning the relationship without ever saying a name, as well as Munch recalling that the first time he'd met Eliska she had called Casey Marochka.

Yet, more questions lay without resolution and they were all getting tetchy with the realization that none of them had come to bat for her. She'd aggravated them at first and yes, she had overstepped bounds more than once, but she had been – _was_ – a friend.

"No. My sister... She never says anything about money. She doesn't want me to know how much it's actually costing her to put me through school," she said. "NYU's not cheap, not even with my scholarships and grants and everything. FAFSA didn't give me anything because they said she made too much, so she pays everything she can out of pocket."

She stopped and shrugged, turning her eyes to Benson's. "She works every hour they let her and I don't want her to have to do it anymore. Sooner I get through school, the sooner I get a job and help with the bills."

"You really love your sister, don't you?"

"She saved my life. Protected me when I couldn't do it for myself and then she gave up her dreams to raise me – how could I hate her? She's my family."

It was said with such incredulity that Olivia cursed herself for having to keep pushing at the girl.

"Eliska, you love her so help her," she said, reaching out with one hand to rest it lightly on Novak's jean-clad knee. She tried to look imploring, only she assumed she looked more hopeful – they needed a break.

A moment of reflection passed, followed by a moment of decision and Eliska closed up her books, set them in her bag and zipped it up. Settling back into the cushions, she pulled her legs up and laid her head on the couch back. "When my sister got suspended, she was devastated. She'd worked full-time for years while going to school to get that degree. The first time we settled anywhere for more than a few months was while she got her undergrad.

"The hearing for it, she'd seriously hoped that one of you – just one – would come and say something. Even if the remarks couldn't be used in the hearing, the bar would have taken into account the words of a non-attorney colleague. But no one did and it broke her. Everything that happened in her life before that moment and it took the loss of this unit as friends to break her." Her eyes were hard as she spoke, and Olivia could already hear the words she knew were coming.

"You hurt my sister. Weeks on end, I'd ask her if she were going to go by the bar and have a drink with you lot until finally it occurred to me that none of you had ever called. Had ever come by. And I've been patiently trying to understand why all of a sudden you care."

It was a bit of a sideswipe the sudden words that had spilled from the girl. She'd been so calm and accommodating since the beginning, but Olivia began to see that Eliska had been assessing them all, trying to figure out what was going on. A young woman in a state of flux; she was seeking stable ground.

George, through the entire exposition, had been standing just a few steps down from the landing, listening as Eliska talked. Little bits and pieces fell into place, learning that her happy-go-lucky facade had been more than a simple mask against the world. She had used it to keep them at bay, to weed through them all and judging their worth when compared to the hurt Casey had suffered.

He made his way up those last few stairs, asking her politely if he could join them. He prepared for all manner of diversions and the tactics of a person who was educated enough to see through his questions. However, a look into her eyes made George realize that while she wouldn't be a font of knowledge for them, she was done being as tight-lipped.

"If I tell you these things," she said with a hint of the accent Elliot had described for them all years earlier, "I should be able to trust you. And right now I don't know if I'm doing the right thing so, um, bare with me." She closed her eyes again, trying to ignore where she was and why.

"We were both born in Prague. My mother's name was Zora and my sister's given name was Marochka," Eliska offered though it took a moment to steel herself before speaking. "I was two and my sister was eighteen when we left in the middle of the night. Clothes on our backs and a few sandwiches in a paper sack, that's all we took."

"Where did you go?"

Eyelids popped open and Eliska regarded George. He tried to sink back a little in the wood chair, tried to appear less threatening, to ease whatever fear she had, and was rewarded when she told them, "We had no car. Our family was poor and there was no real need for us to have one anyway, but one of my sister's friends did and they drove us to the German border. From there, we parted with them and made our way to the Netherlands."

"Eliska, what happened that made you leave?"

"That, I can't tell you." And with that, she yawned, closed her eyes, and refused to answer any further questions, opting instead to sleep.

"_The truth is rarely pure and never simple_."

- Oscar Wilde -


	4. Chapter 4

"_The truth is rarely pure and never simple_."

- Oscar Wilde -

Huang had remained in the squad room long after Olivia and Elliot left to respond to a call from Patrol and speak with Mary Conway Clark. He'd been somewhat disturbed by Eliska's constant use of 'my sister' instead of calling the elder Novak by her name and the way she'd snapped at Benson.

"She's terrified," he concluded that evening when the two sets of partners sat down the Captain. "For the most part, she doesn't trust us because we've caused her sister harm and it probably was the first time she'd seen Casey genuinely in pain."

"As opposed to the beatings and the rapes which were all fluffy clouds," Munch tossed back. When the hospital physician had updated them on Casey's condition, they'd all been upset to learn that Casey showed evidence of prolonged abuse – definitely as far back as her teens if not childhood – and that she'd birthed at least one child. She was bruised, swollen, and torn.

"No, but that pain is something that Casey associates as normal so Eliska does as well. And because it's normal, Eliska doesn't view it as horribly as she does the abandonment."

"Realistically, Doc, how long would the abuse had to have lasted for it to get to this point?"

"Years. This wasn't overnight," he replied.

Tutuola was the one to give voice to what they were all thinking. "We're missing something. There's no way this guy's been beating her on the sly for five years and then all of a sudden starts aiming for her face. Eliska say anything about it?"

Olivia and John shook their heads. She sighed, "The only real insight we've gotten from her is the reason we keep coming up against the Czech Republic. Why it's a closed file, we still don't know, and we don't know why they left. I've asked Eliska since this afternoon and she still continues to say that she can't tell us."

"Is it possible that she doesn't know?" Cragen tossed out.

"No, she may not remember, but she does know," George answered. "She chooses her words very carefully. Nothing she says is spur of the moment or what comes to mind – Eliska thinks about every answer, every comment."

"I can barely remember to keep my mouth shut in front of my own mother," Munch remarked.

Huang grinned, imagining the comments the man likely made. He went on, "She can't risk someone using her words against herself or Casey. She feels she has to protect her sister as much as Casey has protected her which is why she constantly refers to Casey as 'my sister'. She's maintaining to everyone that it's _her _sister."

"If the only people they've had for family is each other, I can understand why." Benson, her own memories reminding her how much she had at one time loved and depended on her mother, glanced out the window toward the loft.

"Given what I believe they have been through, it certainly is understandable."

"And what do you believe they've been through?" Cragen asked, his chair rasping as he sat back and listened. He had his own ideas on why so much of the Novak girls history was steeped in confusion; George's may be based in psychological theories and books, but his were from experience and he had a feeling he knew the truth of it already.

"I believe that the man we've been looking for is an Irish Catholic about Elliot's size and weight," he explained, "Elliot's the only one Eliska hasn't allowed herself to form a bond with. She may keep all of us at arm's length and overthink her responses to us, but she won't let Elliot within a few feet of her and she automatically searches out John or Olivia if he's in the squad room.

"I also believe that we're looking for their father."

"How can you guess that?" Fin sat up a little straighter. "She's always talked about him like he was a hero."

"Casey may have created two entities in her mind. She's probably split it internally so dad is the one who fought in Vietnam and cared for her, while father is the one who abused her," he said, going on, "This was prolonged abuse and she was trained into not being noticed. There was no make up in the apartment, all of her business clothes were gone, and the apartment was arranged to show no appearance of a woman who has put herself through college and law school."

"And raised a sibling. There was not one picture I could find of Eliska anywhere in that place," Tutuola added.

"If she got away and then he found her again at a time when her life was being turned upside down, she likely slipped right back into the mindset that he has to be kept placated for her sister's sake."

Olivia nodded, though she frowned. Eliska barely lived in the apartment, having, in the young woman's words, been pushed by Casey to experience collegiate life. She came and went, mostly to spend time with Casey and trade things from dorm room to home or vice versa. If Casey's thought were to protect Eliska, Olivia assumed the girl would have been kept away altogether.

So who was Casey really protecting? Another question for Benson to ask when her friend finally woke.

"_A mother always has to think twice - _

_once for herself and once for her child._"

- Sophia Loren -

It was snowing out.

It was the third week of December and with Christmas approaching, the college was let out much earlier than usual so the students could spend extra time with their families after what had happened.

Eliska continued to swear that she was capable of caring for herself, but legally could not be allowed to do so. No one in the unit could take her due to regulations, but the District Attorney's office was in a mad dash to find someone who would watch over her before ACS stepped in to force the seventeen-year-old into a group home. Until then, she continued to keep vigil with her sister, leaving room 1601 only to shower, eat, and for breaks in the station. There were hours here and there where she'd escape to a friend's, keeping George at bay professionally-speaking.

It was during one of her breaks, going to a friend's on Staten Island, that Olivia had put in a call to the Czech Embassy requesting the release of the file to them. Elliot had been working on the list of men from Vietnam, crossing off every one that was verified to not have any association with Casey, Eliska, or the Czech Republic.

"I understand that it will take some time. That's not a problem," Olivia said, resting her forehead in her hand as she gripped the phone tighter. This was the fourth time the official on the other end had remarked on the time length and it was grating on her nerves; they were, unfortunately, used to delays. It would be another ten minutes until she successfully got them to relent, saying they'd send out a certified courier with the file within the hour.

At the same time, Elliot hung up the phone with a sense of triumph. "Of all the McDuff's on the list, the only country twelve of them went to was Vietnam. A couple have gone to other countries – Israel, Spain, France, Italy – but none to the Czech Republic. Except one." He walked over to the marker board, writing **Peter McDuff** above the girl's names and drawing lines down to each. "Records show that he served from 1969, when his draft number was pulled on 1 December, until 1975 when he was dishonorably discharged after going AWOL in December of '74. He was serving a jail-term for it, but the sentence was commuted when his wife petitioned the government for his release due to financial and familial difficulties."

"Records say what those difficulties were?" Munch asked from his place at the coffee machine.

"Yeah, three kids with mouths to feed." He settled back against the edge of his desk, flipping through the papers in front of him and reporting, "One boy, two girls. Names aren't listed, but it does have days of birth and one corresponds to Casey's."

"Anything more recent?"

"Not that I could find, but we should have something soon," he told the group. He'd outsourced the continuation of the search to another department, not having the time or ability to do it himself. If he was lucky, they'd find out who the mysterious Alexander was.

Olivia piped up, "We've got a hard copy of the government file on the way from the Embassy, but they can't promise it won't be censored and we have to wait until it gets here from DC." She got up, moving to the board, and standing beside Elliot as she wrote on the board. "They did give me the names of the children: Dobrila, Milana, Marochka, and Eliska and the mother was Zora. No information on her besides a record of her death in '93."

"So we've got a rough time frame." John leaned back in the chair. "Casey was born in 1975 and Eliska in 1991. Mama McDuff dies two years later, then the girls show up in New York in 1997." He flops down the paper he'd been reading off of, stating, "Customs checked the passports for Marochka Cashel McDuff and Eliska Emily McDuff on March 29th that year."

"That's four year unaccounted for," Elizabeth Donnelly remarked.

"Your honor," Benson declared, more shocked than surprised.

She held up a manila folder. "Jack went hunting through our personnel files. He apologizes for it taking so long to get to you."

"He apologizes?" Fin looked incredulous. In the years he'd had contact with the DA's office, not once had an apology been issued by the holder of the chair. Of course, he'd never heard of them actually going for a file themselves either.

"Actually when I say hunting I mean terrified an intern and I'm the one apologizing," she explained, handing the folder to Elliot and looking uncomfortable as she stood there. She finally sighed and asked, "Has there been any improvement?"

"You haven't been to see her?"

"No." She shook her head, answering Olivia's question. "I wasn't sure I was welcome," Donnelly said, "After the hearing, I went by the apartment to talk to her and it got a little out of hand. Her sister saw us argue and I didn't think she'd let me within five feet of the door, let alone into the room."

"You were at the apartment the day after? Did you see anything strange?" Stabler started. If his personal theory was correct, then the abuse had already started when Casey was dismissed from her position and her behavior might have shown such outside of the workplace.

Only Elizabeth told him, "Nothing that stuck out in my mind. Everything was clean and neat – clothing was in a hamper by the door, papers in order," she paused, "She did get agitated when I asked about the bags on the coffee table."

"What bags?"

All four had rose by that point, the file she'd brought them open in Olivia's hand though ignored at that moment while they listened.

She rubbed her eyes, closing them into her palm while she thought. "Retail stores. Baby Gap and Children's Place," Donnelly said, and her gaze settled on the assembled detectives as Elliot cursed, Olivia held in a remark, and the other two looked at each other. "You don't think... Casey?"

"Her doctor said she's definitely had a child, but they could only give us a rough time frame. There was nothing in her medical records we could find." Elliot seethed, "The sonovabitch got her pregnant. Fucking bastard."

"_I won't step back,_

_but I'll look down to hide_

_from your eyes._"

- Elisa -

The interrogation room was dark, the only light in the space from two sources: the street-lamp outside which was casting the walls in a pale orange hue, and the television by the table.

Olivia had watched through the one way glass for half a minute before pushing the door open and joining her partner, sitting at his side. Her forearms rested against the edge and posture showing her focus – on Elliot, who was splayed out in the chair. She broke the silence, saying, "That doesn't look like any of your girls."

"Nope," he immediately shot back. "Home video from Casey's. It was released from CSU to us coupla days ago." He reached for the remote, preparing to hit stop yet he couldn't make himself press the button. He tapped the side of the device against the table top for a moment, trying to find the right words to speak and failing miserably.

It took three aborted tries before Elliot started talking, his speech steady. "When we started on this, I thought... well, I thought that we were wrong. Eliska was just a kid who was so tired from her schoolwork she got a little unsteady on her feet from time to time and Casey was just having tough time. I didn't want to look at the evidence because it couldn't possibly be true.

"And what does that make me? Like every other person who tells us that they never saw anything. Casey was being beaten and raped while she _worked_ here and we failed to notice." He turned to face her, the sadness sparkling in his eyes. "She was pregnant and we abandoned her."

"We're here now."

He snorted. "Fat lot of good it does her. We can't find the guy who put her in the hospital to stop him from laying a hand on her in the future and we have no idea if her kid's alive or dead or where it even is." He threw down the remote and stood, letting himself lean on the doorjam. With hands behind his back to pad against the wood, Elliot pointed with his chin to the screen. "I don't think we've seen her smile like that."

The change in subject surprised Olivia who whipped her head around to face the TV. There, Casey, younger and just as thin, was laughing on screen as the camera shook – Eliska had to have been holding it – and the grin that plastered her face as she tried to stifle her giggles was probably the most content Benson had seen. She knew without a doubt that they hadn't seen that level of happiness from Casey.

Elliot sighed, reaching once more for the remote, only to be deterred by Olivia's hand on his wrist. He looked to his partner who was pointing at the screen; she took the remote herself and unmuted it, listening to a mix of Czech and heavily accented English.

But that was not what had caught the detective's eye. No, it was the fact that behind Casey was the Tower of London.

"I'll be damned," Olivia muttered, "England."

"That'll help narrow down the search for their location prior to arrival in the US." Elliot looked at the time stamp, as Eliska appeared on the television and called to the camera holder. "What'd she just say?"

Hitting rewind, she shook her head and said, "I don't know." Stop, then play, and they both listened closely, trying to hear what the girl was saying over the din of the park and Casey's laughter. It was too difficult for them to discern themselves, however, and Olivia declared, "TARU," as she got to her feet.

"Tell Morales to step on it."

She simply nodded as he left the room, hope sparking internally once more – they had a location and a year. They might even have a person to talk to. It was a lead on determining Casey's whereabouts which could help them in turn figure out the when of her father's arrival in her life.

If they could get some idea of the order of things, they might be able to find Peter McDuff based on past behavior. With luck, they could arrest him and indite him long before Casey woke... '_if Casey does_', she thought as she walked through the desks to the unit doors. The longer the coma went on the more the doctors warned, she may not regain consciousness and in that case, all had wondered what would happen to Eliska. She was a strong, independent woman, but she couldn't survive on her own.

She was so deep in her thoughts, it was only when her partner rushed up and touched her arm that Olivia realized he'd been calling her.

"What, Elliot?"

"Peter McDuff was at the hospital," he announced.

"Is he still there? Did they call security?" She had turned at the news and was half-running back to SVU and yanking on her coat.

"Yeah, but by the time they got there, he was gone." Elliot wrapped his scarf around his neck, already wincing as he heard the whistle of the wind as it broke against the building. He glanced to Munch who was still on the phone with the hospital; he didn't want to leave without being sure they were both completely informed.

The headset was dropped into the cradle and he said, "Daddy scumbag almost made it to Casey's room when Eliska told a nurse to please contact us. The hospital rent-a-cops were there and stopped him from actually getting in with her, but he managed to escape their custody." His features hardened with the next words, "They can't find Eliska."

"_Many of the great achievements of_

_the world were accomplished by tired and_

_discouraged men who kept on working."_

- Anon -


	5. Chapter 5

"_Many of the great achievements of_

_the world were accomplished by tired and_

_discouraged men who kept on working."_

- Anon -

Cragen stared at his detectives from the doorway. The way Olivia brushed her eyes tiredly, the way Elliot squinted at his computer screen; Fin was flipping through the same set of papers for the sixth time, not really comprehending what he was reading.

Munch... John's desk contained more mess than ever before with stacks of files and the sleeping form of the Sargent. He'd put in more overtime in the two days Eliska had been gone than in the years he'd served in Special Victims.

They were all exhausted, pushing the boundaries of their mental and physical health.

"Go home," he finally called out, having watched Olivia's head start to drop and suddenly go back up. "Or go to the crib. Just get some sleep – all of you. And that includes Munch."

"Yes, Cap," Fin replied, cracking his neck. He waited until the elder man was gone, then looked to his coworkers. "You guys find anything?"

"I got nothing," Olivia said. She swung her arms up over her head, one hand wrapping around her wrist as she stretched. She had started to rise when a phone began to ring, the noise of it ricocheting in Munch's dream and waking him swiftly.

He slapped the speaker button.

Olivia felt nauseous.

Don returned to the squad room.

Someone muted the phone and another dialed their own, demanding a trace right then and there while Elliot woke their ADA to beg for a warrant. Fin wrote down a message on a legal pad at his side, throwing it across the aisle between desks to Elliot who tacked on, "And we'll need either the cooperation of Sprint or a warrant."

By the time all the phones were down, only soft sobs could be heard from the speaker. The squeak of a bed came through as someone moved, then the snap of the phone with a sniffle. No one could tell if Eliska had been the one to end the connection without a word or if McDuff had.

"TARU says the call was a Nextel phone. They got it tracked down to some cheap motel in a town north of the City," Fin told them, "Brewster."

"They got an exact location?"

Tutuola nodded at Cragen. "The phone Casey bought Eliska had GPS installed and activated. Even paid extra for some family locator feature on it." He didn't need to add that their former ADA's foresight had saved her sister from further abuse.

It was a sentiment never said aloud as they piled into their cars, never uttered via radio on the long ride up from the one-six, nor given life when they ground to a stop at the sleepy little town. It was the proverbial elephant in the room as Elliot and Fin once more stood together, preparing to knock the door in on Room 4165 of the Lantern Inn if Olivia's call of their arrival didn't get it open.

Predictably there was the sound of scrambling from the inside after the knock as all hell broke loose. The cheap door snapped off the hinges to reveal Peter rushing toward the back window; officers were screaming and to the side of the bed, out of the way of the chaos, was Eliska. She was watching them all, terrified, while her father was forced to the floor and handcuffed.

Only after he was dragged from the room, the entire time calling for her, did she allow anyone near and even then, Munch was once again the person who she let touch her, let pick her up from the floor and wrap her trembling frame in his heavy trenchcoat.

"Hi," she murmured moments later, looking sad despite the small smile she gave them. Both hands were gripping John's forearms tightly, nails digging into the fabric. "I, uh, I'll let go in a second. Really."

"It's all right. Hold on long as you need." He shifted his legs as he knelt down, praying the reduction in his stature over him would ease the girl's nervousness. She wouldn't look him in the eyes though, and that unsettled John far more than he wanted to let on.

Outside, the scene was decidedly less tender as Peter McDuff, a tall man with fair skin and a solid body, was slammed into one of the squad cars. Elliot was sure he'd over heard one of the hotel guests, many of which had been woken by the yelling in the middle of the night, declare that it was police brutality. He considered it a show of personal restraint that he only turned to glare at the speaker rather than say what had immediately come to mind.

Grasping him by the fabric of his shirt, Stabler flipped him around without letting go and stared for a moment. "You're the guy who beat my friend into a coma," he hissed. "You got her pregnant and you raped her baby sister while I listened. I will do everything in my power to see them put the needle in your arm myself."

He _smirked_.

"You bastard..." He had his fist pulled back before he knew it, stopped when Olivia told him Munch was bringing Eliska out.

She gave him a hard stare. "The last thing she needs to see is you with your hand raised, even if it is to him," she said, appealing to the side of him that wanted to bond with the girl. The expected reaction was swift; together they got him – resisting at every turn – into the backseat of the black and white as John and Eliska emerged from the room she'd spent a scant three days in that Benson was sure had felt much longer.

Eliska was secured into the backseat of the unmarked sedan when Munch divulged, "She's refusing a rape kit and she is emphatic on her aversion to being brought to a hospital. She wants to go back to the city as soon as possible."

"Casey's not going anywhere, even if she was upright..."

He cut off his partner. "I don't think that's it, but she won't say why and it doesn't really matter right now. She's wincing every time she moves, her jeans are stained, and she needs medical attention," he reported, "Olivia, you should talk to her."

"Right." She nodded, aware that Novak may trust Munch implicitly – only he was a man, something that at that moment was not in his favor.

Sliding into the backseat to Eliska's right, Olivia cast a critical eye over the woman. There were fresh bruises on flesh that had healed just a handful of days earlier, her clothing was torn and dirty and there were drops of blood at the zipper. Her gaze landed anywhere except the detective, unable or unwilling to face the other, perhaps from fear of judgment.

"No hospital," she said quietly, dropping her head to the glass and drawing in the condensation with a single finger.

"Sweetheart, I know it's scary but I'll stay with you." Olivia knew that the case against McDuff might not stand up in court without biological evidence that he had been abusing the girl or the DNA of Casey's child. She reached out, making sure Eliska saw it coming, and rested it on her arm.

"I said no." A tear slid down her cheek as she spoke, "Casey always said people have the right to say no and I'm saying it now. Please don't make me do this."

Olivia resisted the urge to hold onto Eliska. She tried to soothe, "No one will make you. If you don't want the kit that's fine, okay? But you need a doctor to look you over." The longer she sat there, the stronger the smell of blood filled Benson's nose and with no visible non-threatening wounds, she worried for what it meant. "No kit, no cameras, just a doctor."

A swallow, then, "I think I can handle that."

"_Children are the hands by_

_which we take hold of heaven."_

- Henry Ward Beecher -

Memo to Munch: i304./albums/nn173/rileyjack/my own/Memo.png

"_Guilt is the source of sorrow."_

- Nicholas Rowe -

It had been well after dawn on the twentieth when they walked into the one-six, Eliska having been released from the hospital to the custody of a friend's parents. "She shouldn't have to spend Christmas in a group home," the mother had told Olivia. "We can have her stay until Casey's on her feet again."

Benson had thanked the woman profusely once Eliska had assured that she was comfortable with the James family. The DA's office had been unable to find someone within their ranks to care for her and no one in SVU wanted to compromise the case by taking her on themselves, despite knowing they'd already done so by referring to Casey as their friend countless times over. If a good lawyer represented McDuff, they faced hearing that they'd gone on a witchhunt or had been biased during the investigation.

That, however, had been prior to the message found on Munch's desk when they'd walked in.

"Alexander Novak. The mystery man himself," Elliot remarked, picking up the phone. He punched the numbers in tiredly, blinking, and listened as it rang through to the hospital. The switchboard took a few minutes to navigate, a seemingly endless list of names, departments, and services.

"_NICU, Dr. Vesta speaking_."

"This is Detective Stabler from the One-Six. A message was left for another officer about Alexander Novak."

"_Ah, yes. We've been trying to reach Eliska for several days now and were told to contact you instead. Is she okay?_"

Elliot sat down in his chair and nodded a thanks for the coffee Olivia had brought him. "She's safe, that's all I can say."

"_I understand. However, since her sister is incapacitated, she is his next of kin and I'll need her permission to __treat Alexa's bronchitis._"

"Alexa?"

"_A nickname. I'm sorry, but I really need to speak with her. With children as sick as he has been, time is always of the essence. I will, with her permission as well, gladly discuss his case – after I've started treatment._"

It was a firm tone of voice and Elliot respected that she was not simply trying to use Doctor-Patient confidentiality to keep him at bay; her priority was the life of an infant. "Can she call or do you need her there?"

"_Calling can suffice for now. She'll have to come by to sign forms before the end of the day,_" she answered, the sound of papers shuffling and the scratch of a pen in the background. "_Please let her know that it might be best if she spends some time with him as well._"

"Yes, ma'am. I'll call her now and pass on your number." He hung up without a goodbye and looked at his partner. "Alexander is Casey's son," he started and relayed the rest of the call to her, heart twisting at the four letters that instilled fear in every parent. NICU was not a place one wanted their child to spend any significant time after birth.

"Call home, Elliot. I'll take care of Eliska," she ordered at the look on his face. It was one she'd seen many times before – the look of contemplation when Elliot thought of his own children, imagining them in the same place as their victim.

He didn't have to be told twice, escaping to the hallway for some semblance of privacy despite the number of people in the building. Kathy had teased him gently for forgetting the day of the week and the hour when he asked to speak to one of the kids and she could only offer him Elliot Junior.

It was the sweet laugh that she gave him that stuck with him later that day when he and Munch followed Eliska through the hospital, clearly on a well-traveled route of hallways and floors. They tried to keep her talking, but she had no interest in doing so and used only a few words at a time to respond.

"Dr. Vesta asked me to come down," Eliska told a woman when she reached the nurses' station three steps ahead of the detectives.

"She's busy with a patient, but if you'd like to sit with Alexa while you wait, it can be arranged," the elder – _Jane :) _according to her name tag – replied with a smile. "Can you help your friends wash up or do you need some help?"

Munch wondered how little contact Jane had had with Eliska to be speaking with her like a child, using small words and a condescending tone, given the amount of time the girl had apparently been caring for her nephew. He answered for Eliska whose face was devoid of all emotion, telling the nurse, "I'm sure she can show us, thank you."

Alexandr, as it was actually spelled, had been premature, breech, and hadn't drawn his first breath for at least a minute after birth. Since then, Eliska told them, he had been kept in the NICU while his lungs and heart grew stronger and he gained weight.

"Casey was really upset she had to leave him." She stroked the boy's head through the isolette door, adding, "She wanted him home for Christmas. I mean we knew it was safer here for him, but she always worried that one day Papa would show up, take him, and we'd never see Alexa again."

"Did your father try to abort Alexa?" Elliot asked. By rights, the boy looked like he shouldn't still be alive, so small even the heart monitor seemed oversized on him, and with what they knew, Stabler couldn't help but think that perhaps the five and a half month pregnancy had been ended for her by an outside source. All Peter would have needed to do was stress her enough: a good well-placed punch to Casey's stomach would have greatly stressed the mother-to-be.

"I don't know," she whispered. Eliska composed herself as quickly as she could, admitting to them that, "I was in class when the hospital called. They kept asking about Alexa's father, but I... I just wanted to get to Casey as fast as I could." She turned her eyes away, unable to face them and unwilling to let them see her cry anymore than she already had. "I know I should have ended it that day. The questions they asked, they had to have known. I couldn't bring myself to do it. All this is my fault."

"No, it is not your fault," John began before she'd finished saying the last word. "You did not do anything wrong and Casey didn't do anything wrong. Your father was the one who was wrong, not you."

"What do I tell him when he grows up and asks why I didn't call the police for his mother when I knew he was beating her?"

Anger. That was new and while neither one's posture or expression changed outwardly, inside they both relaxed a little more. Depression and self-recrimination was common in their victims; anger the next step. It was a small show of it, but where there was a speck, there tended to be more.

"You tell him what I'll tell him – you were being abused too. Even if you'd said something the day he was born, Eliska, do you think your sister would have said something?" Munch asked. "The day you were at the precinct with Casey was the third time she'd come in contact with one of us and she tried to keep us from investigating."

"She was protecting Alexa."

"I think she was protecting you, because she knows – better than most – what happens when those allegations are brought against someone."

Eliska shrugged and, with her eyes still on Alexandr, reached out for a hand. She didn't know who took it and it didn't matter, because right then it only mattered that it was being held.

"_Even miracles take a little time."_

- Anon -

"_You have one message. To listen to your..._"

Two buttons pressed in succession.

"_Message received 1 January 2009 at eight-nineteen AM._"

One button.

"_This is Doctor Elisabeth Tennant at NYU Downtown Medical Center. I'm trying to get in touch with Detective Munch or Detective Benson. Casey Novak woke up this morning around seven and is asking for her sister. If it is possible for her to brought to the hospital, she can see Miss Novak until the close of visiting hours tonight. Also, please be advised that due to the nature of her head injury she is confused with language and is currently speaking Czech to my nursing staff._

_If you have any questions, I can be reached through the hospital switchboard at extension 861._"

Headset into the cradle, the shuffle of coats, and the slam of a door.

"_The beginning is the most_

_important part of the work_."

- Plato -


	6. Interlude: Drink Night

Thursday night was drink night.

It was the one and only night they could designate for themselves, for their friendship. Weekends belonged to families and the rest of the week was mired in paperwork, cases, and docket schedules. So Thursdays, nestled between her days home with her children and his time going over attorney information, it was.

They would meet at the bar a block north from the courthouse after the day was over and the waitress (Sarah, a drama student at Marymount) would always guide them straight to a booth in the back.

With a martini in her hand and a whiskey sour in his, they would lazily toss out stories and advice about cases. Sometimes they'd eat the bar pretzels over a file or two, but mostly it was their night to knock back a few drinks, then head home to rest before court in the morning.

Such was an old routine, a remnant from their younger days when she wasn't married and he was and they were both idealistic. Age, he once remarked, had embittered them toward the optimistic.

Tonight, however, didn't carry the same sarcastic yet amused overtures as normal. The tone in the air was more somber; they'd both ordered screwdrivers.

For the first twenty minutes they were silent, just as they'd been since Elizabeth returned from delivering Casey Novak's personnel file to the SVU detectives, then Jack looked up at his friend and said, "Fucking hell."

Donnelly nodded and sighed. "Do you think there's anyone right now who doesn't want to see us crucified?"

"Intern in personnel probably didn't until today," McCoy admitted. "I know Mary Clark is pissed as hell, but I think she feels guilty, same as the rest of us. Of course, SVU probably wants my balls."

"Thank you for that eloquent statement."

He only snorted and knocked back the last of his second drink. The first had been gone long before she'd even started on hers, slugged back while the waitress had watched with wide eyes; the young woman had never seen him drink to get drunk and Jack normally didn't.

Special circumstances warranted the behavior in his opinion. Of course, that was now – later, while nursing the headache, he'd remind himself why he tried to avoid drinking an entire bottle of booze in a night.

There was another long few moments of silence, broken by Elizabeth's changing position in the booth to match his: back against the wall and feet up on the seat with drink steadied in hand as her elbow rested on the table. The pleather squeaked annoyingly beneath her, but no one else in the establishment looked at her.

"Arthur warned me there was something strange with Casey, you know."

"He did?" she asked, lifting the cup to her lips.

His answer was interrupted by the arrival of his third glass of alcohol, which he set down next to the basket of fries he'd ordered when they'd arrived. Elizabeth wasn't sure she'd be able to eat greasy food with her drink, grateful she wouldn't have to clean up after him later.

"Day I helped him move out of his office, we're talking about the ADA's with the departments. We got to SVU and I may have remarked that she was a zealot at times. That I wasn't sure I be able to handle her, but she was a damn fine lawyer," he explained between fries, "Arthur turned to look at me and said 'Jack, son, there is one thing you will learn in this office and that is no one is that obsessed with a job without reason. Casey's a pitbull for sex crimes – it should make you wonder why.'"

"Have you spoken to him since..."

"Yeah, he called yesterday to wish me a merry fuck you." He glanced up at her disbelieving face and added, "My words. He asked me if I remembered our conversation and if I'd done anything to talk to Casey. I told him I hadn't and Arthur gave me a piece of advice I am not repeating."

She laughed, knowing precisely what the former DA had said. "It involve objects in uncomfortable places?"

Jack shifted in the seat a bit to rile her up and smirked around his glass. With another drink half-depleted, he rested his head onto his hand, relaxing warmth spreading through him, and he said, "We could go to the Bar Association."

Elizabeth nodded in agreement. They could do exactly that, as the abuse would have constituted a mitigating circumstance making her more susceptible to prosecuting the crimes she identified with. The censure and suspension would be revoked, but she wouldn't be able to work with special victims again.

Of course, that wouldn't matter anyway unless Jack hired Casey back. Which would probably come with the stipulation that she not work with that unit.

She let her head thud against the wall and mired herself in her thoughts as they spent the rest of their night in silence, each contemplating the very woman they'd once found crazed to the point of lunacy.


End file.
